and off to him. He was lying in a little village in the steppe, at the priest’s, thirty miles away. In spite of all her haste, poor dear, she did not find him alive. My God! we all thought she would go out of her mind. . . . She was ailing right up to the time of your birth — and never recovered afterwards. ... As you know she was not long for this world. . . . [His head droops.]
Olga. So then ... I am your daughter. . . . But what proofs have you?
Kuzovkin [eagerly]. Proofs? Good gracious, Olga Petrovna, proofs! I’ve no proofs whatever. As though I should dare! Why, if it hadn’t been for the misfortune yesterday, I wouldn’t have said a word to my dying day, I’d have cut my tongue out sooner! And why didn’t I die yesterday? Good gracious! Not a soul till yesterday, Olga Petrovna, what an idea. ... I didn’t dare to think of it, even by myself alone. After the death of your . . . father . . . I wanted to run away . . . anywhere ... I did wrong to stop. I hadn’t the courage, I was afraid of want, of cruel poverty. I did wrong, I remained. ... But in your mother’s presence I could hardly breathe, let alone speak or anything, Olga Petrovna. Proofs! In those first months I didn’t see your mother at all — she shut herself up in her room, and wouldn’t see anyone but Praskovya Ivanovna, her maid; later on . . . later on, I did see her certainly, but in the sight of God I say it, I was afraid to look her in the face. . . . Proofs! Why indeed, Olga Petrovna, I’m not a criminal anyway, and not a fool — I know my place. And if you had not yourself commanded . . . don’t be troubled, Olga Petrovna, please. . . . What are you worried about? What proofs could there be! Don’t you believe an old fool like me . . . I’ve been lying . . . that’s all. ... As a matter of fact, I sometimes don’t know what I’m saying. . . . I’m in my dotage.... Don’t believe it, Olga Petrovna, that’s all. Proofs indeed!
Olga. No, Vassily Semyonitch, I won’t have any deception with you. .. . You couldn’t. . . invent such a ... To slander the dead — no, that would be too terrible. . . . [Turning away.] No, I believe you.
Kuzovkin [in a faint voice]. You believe me. . . . Oi.ga. Yes. [Glancing at him and shuddering.] But! it’s awful, awful! [Moves quickly aside.]
Kuzovkin [stretching out his hands towards her], Olga Petrovna, don’t be uneasy ... I understand you. . . . You with your education . . . and I ... I would tell you what I am . . . only for your sake . . . but I know very well what I am. . . . Oh dear, do you suppose I don’t feel it all? . . . You know I love you like my own. . . . You see, after all, you are. . . . [Gets up quickly.] Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid, my tongue shall never utter the word. . . . Forget all our talk, and I’ll go away to - day, at once. . . . You see I can’t stay here now, I can’t possibly. . . . Well, there too I can pray for you . . . [Tears come into his eyes] and everywhere . . . for you and for your husband . . . and, of course it’s all my own fault. . . . I’ve robbed myself, you may say of my last happiness. . . . [Sheds tears.]
Olga [in indescribable agitation]. Oh, what does it mean! Why, he’s my father, after all. . . . [Turns, and seeing that he is weeping.] He’s crying . . . don’t cry, there, there. . . . [She goes up to him.]
Kuzovkin [stretching out his hand to her]. Good - bye, Olga Petrovna. . . .
[Olga, too, holds out her hand uncertainly — tries to force herself to embrace him, but at once turns away with a shudder and runs off into her study. Kuzovkin remains where he zV.] Kuzovkin [clutching at his heart]. My God, my God, what is happening to me?
Voice of Yeletsky [speaking through the closed door]. You’ve locked the door! Olya! Olya!
Kuzovkin [coming to himself]. Who is it? . . He. . . . Yes. . . . What is it?
Voice of Yeletsky. Monsieur Tropatchov is here. Je vous l’annonce... . Olya, answer.... Vassily Semyonitch, are you there?
Kuzovkin. Yes, sir.
Voice of Yeletsky. Where is Olga Petrovna?
Kuzovkin. She has gone, sir.
Voice of Yeletsky. Oh! Unlock the door.
[Kuzovkin unlocks it: Yeletsky comes in.]
Yeletsky [looking about him]. This is all very strange. [To Kuzovkin, coldly and sternly.] You are going away?
Kuzovkin. Yes, sir.
Yeletsky. Ah! Well, how did your conversation end, then?
Kuzovkin. Conversation . . . there was no conversation exactly, but I begged Olga Petrovna’s gracious forgiveness.
Yeletsky. And she?
Kuzovkin. She was pleased to say she would no longer be angry with me . . . and so now I am ready to go. . . .
Yeletsky. So Olga Petrovna did not alter my decision?
Kuzovkin. Oh, no. . . .
Yeletsky. H’m . . . I’m very sorry . . . but you see for yourself, Vassily Semyonitch, that . . .
Kuzovkin. Yes, indeed, Pavel Nikolaitch, I agree with you completely. You have treated me very kindly. I humbly thank you.
Yelets ky. I am glad to see that you feel you were to blame. And so, good - bye. ... If you want anything, please don’t hesitate. Though I have given the village elder instructions, you may at any time apply to me directly. . . .
Kuzovkin. I humbly thank you. [Bows.]
Yeletsky. Good - bye, Vassily Semyonitch. Oh, wait a little, though. . . . H’m Monsieur Tropatchov has called — he’ll be in here immediately. ... I should like you to repeat before him ... what you said to me this morning....
Kuzovkin. Yes, sir.
Yeletsky. Good. [To Tropatchov, who is coming in.] Mais venez done, venez done! [Tropatchov comes in, strutting affectedly as usual.] Well? Who won?
Tropatchov. I did, of course. Your billiard - table’s wonderfully fine. Only fancy, Mr. Ivanov refused to play with me! Said he had a headache. Mr. Ivanov — and a headache!! Eh? Et Madame? I hope she is quite well?
Yeletsky. Yes, quite — she’ll be here in a minute.
Tropatchov [with affable familiarity], I say, you know, your arrival is a perfect godsend for us poor rustics ... ha! ha! — une bonne fortune. . . . [Looks round and notices Kuzovkin.] Hullo... you here, too?
[Kuzovkin bows in silence.]
Yeletsky [loudly to Tropatchov, motioning with his chin towards Kuzovkin]. Yes . . . he’s terribly upset to - day — you understand — after yesterday’s performance — he’s been begging everybody’s pardon all day.
Tropatchov. Ah! wine disagrees with him, it seems. .. . What do you say, eh?
Kuzovkin [not raising his eyes]. I’m sorry, I must have been quite mad.
Tropatchov. Aha! So that’s it, master of Vyetrovo. . . . [To Yeletsky.] And the idea occurs to me. . . . After this there’s nothing so wonderful in some madman’s imagining he’s the Emperor of China, or I don’t know what. . . . Some, they say, fancy they’ve the sun and moon in their stomachs, and anything else you please. . . . Ha! Ha! So that’s it, that’s it, master of Vyetrovo.
Yeletsky [who would like to change the subject]. Yes.
What was I meaning to ask you, Flegont Alexandritch — when are we going shooting?
Tropatchov. When you like. . . . You see . . . Here, I’m not standing on ceremony with you. ... I was here yesterday and here I am again to - day. ... So you must do the same with me. . . . Wait a minute, I’ll ask Karpatchov. He knows better about it. He’ll tell us where to go. [Goes to door of the dining - room.] Karpatchov! come here, old man! [To Yeletsky.] He’s a first - rate shot — but I beat him at billiards. [Karpatchov comes in.] Here, Karpy, Pavel Nikolaitch would like to go shooting tomorrow — so where should we go, eh?
Karpatchov. Let’s go into Koloberdovo. There must be plenty of woodcock there by now.
Yeletsky. Is it far from here?
Karpatchov. By the main track about twenty - five miles, but by the by - roads it will be less.
Yeletsky. Very well, then. [Praskovya Ivanovna comes out of the study.] What is it?
Praskovya Ivanovna [with a bow to Yeletsky]. My lady asks you to go to her.
Yeletsky. What for?
Praskovya Ivanovna. I can’t say, sir.
Yeletsky. Say, I’ll come at once.
[To Tropatchov.] You will excuse me? [Praskovya Ivanovna goes out.]
Tropatchov [shaking his head]. Oh, Pavel Nikolaitch, aren’t you ashamed to ask. . . . Please. . . .
Yeletsky. We won’t keep you waiting long. [Goes out. Kuzovkin, who has all the time been standing not far from the door into the dining - room, tries to seize this opportunity to go out.]
Tropatchov [to Kuzovkin]. Where are you off to, my friend? Stay and let’s have a little chat.
Kuzovkin. I have to .. .
Tropatchov. Oh, nonsense . . . you needn’t. You’re feeling ashamed, perhaps. . . . What rubbish! It’s a thing that happens to everybody. [Takes him by the arm and leads him to front of stage.] That is — wait a bit — I mean, drinking too much is a thing that happens to everybody . . . but I must own you gave us a surprise yesterday! You discovered a likeness, did you, eh? What a notion!
Kuzovkin. Simply through foolishness.
Tropatchov. To be sure, and yet it was queer. Why your daughter? . . . Queer! . . . Own up, though, you wouldn’t be sorry to have a daughter like that? [Pokes him in the ribs.~ Come . . . tell us . . . eh? [To Karpatchov.] He hadn’t bad taste, eh? What do you say? [Karpatchov laughs.’]
Kuzovkin [tries to draw his arm away from Tropatchov]. Excuse me. . . .
Tropatchov. Why were you so cross with us yesterday, eh? Come, tell us. . . .
Kuzovkin [turning his head away, in a low voice], I am sorry.
Tropatchov. To be sure. Well, God will forgive you. Your daughter then? [Kuzovkin does not speak.] I say, dear friend, why don’t you come and see me? I’d make you welcome.
Kuzovkin. I humbly thank you.
Tropatchov. And you’d find it nice, ask him here. [Pointing to Karpatchov.] You could tell me again about Vyetrovo.
Kuzovkin [in a toneless voice]. Yes, sir.
Tropatchov. Why, I don’t believe you’ve greeted Karpatchov to - day? [To Karpatchov.] Karpy, you haven’t greeted Vassily Semyonitch as you did yesterday?
Karpatchov. No, I haven’t.
Tropatchov. That’s too bad.
Karpatchov. Oh, allow me, I will at once. . . . [Advances with outspread arms towards Kuzovkin. Kuzovkin backs. The study door opens quickly and Yeletsky comes in. He is pale and agitated.]
Yeletsky [with annoyance]. I believe I’ve asked you, Flegont Alexandritch, to leave Mr. Kuzovkin alone. . . .
[Tropatchov turns in surprise and looks at Yeletsky.
Karpatchov stays motionless.]
Tropatchov [with some embarrassment]. You told . . . I don’t remember.
Yeletsky [goes on sharply and harshly]. Yes, Flegont Alexandritch, I confess that I wonder how you . . . with your education . . . your breeding . . . can care to amuse yourself. . . with such ... I venture to say . . . stupid jokes . . . and two days running, too. . . .
Tropatchov [making a sign to Karpatchov, who at once skips away and draws himself up erect]. But, excuse me, Pavel Nikolaitch ... of course I . . . Though I do really agree with you . . . yet on the other hand . . . And your good lady, is she quite well?
Yeletsky. Yes . . . she will be here immediately. . . . Smiling and pressing Tropatchov’s hand.] Please excuse me.... I’m rather out of sorts to - day.
Tropatchov. Oh, don’t mention it, Pavel Nikolaitch, as though it mattered. . . . And indeed you are quite right ... it never does to be too familiar with persons of that sort. . . . [Yeletsky winces slightly.] What a glorious day! [A moment’s silence.] Of course, you really are right. . . it’s a mistake to go on living too long in the country! On se rouille a la compagne. . . . It’s awful . . . one’s bored, you know. . . . One gets into bad ways.
Yeletsky. Please, say no more about it, Flegont Alexandritch.
Tropatchov. Oh, no; I meant in general; it was a general observation, you know. [Again a brief silence.] I don’t believe I told you ... I am going abroad next winter.
Yeletsky. Ah! [To Kuzovkin, who is again trying to go.] Stay, Vassily Semyonitch ... I have a few words to say to you.
Tropatchov. I propose staying a couple of years abroad. . . . And Madame? Shall we have the pleasure of seeing her to - day?
Yeletsky. Why, of course. But meanwhile wouldn’t you like a turn in the garden? It’s such a lovely day — un petit tour? Only if you don’t mind, I won’t come with you. I have to talk things over with Vassily Semyonitch. ... But in a few minutes. . . .
Tropatchov. Make yourself at home, ha! ha! my dear Pavel Nikolaitch! You see to your own affairs, and don’t hurry — and meanwhile in company with this individual I’ll enjoy the beauties of nature. . . . I’m cracked over nature! Venez ici, Karpy. [He goes out with Karpatchov.]
Yeletsky [walks after them, closes the door, comes hack to Kuzovkin, and folds his arms]. Sir! yesterday I looked on you as a nonsensical and tipsy man; to - day I am forced to regard you as a slanderer and a blackmailer. . . . Don’t interi upt me! a slanderer and a blackmailer. Olga Petrovna has told me everything. You didn’t expect that, perhaps, sir? What explanation can you give me of your conduct? This morning you acknowledged yourself that what you said yesterday was pure invention. . . . To - day in conversation with my wife. .. .
Kuzovkin. I am sorry. My heart. . . .
Yeletsky. I don’t care a hang about your heart. I ask you again; you were lying? [Kuzovkin is silent.] Were you lying?
Kuzovkin. I have told you already I didn’t know what I was saying yesterday.
Yeletsky. But to - day you know what you were saying. And after that you have the courage to look a decent man in the face? And you are not crushed with shame?
Kuzovkin. Pavel Nikolaitch, indeed you are too severe with me. Kindly consider what advantage could I gain from my talk with Olga Petrovna?
Yeletsky. I’ll tell you what advantage. You hoped by this absurd tale to excite her sympathy. You reckoned on her generosity — it was money you wanted. . . . Yes, yes, money. And I must tell you you have gained your object. Listen, my wife and I have decided to pay a sufficient sum to provide for your future on condition. . . .
Kuzovkin. But I want nothing!
Yeletsky. Don’t interrupt me! . . . On condition that you choose your place of residence a good way off.
From myself I add: by accepting this sum from us, you thereby admit your lie. . . . That word I see makes you wince — your invention, let us say, and consequently renounce all claim. ...
Kuzovkin. But I won’t take a penny from you!
Yeletsky. What, sir? You persist, then? Am I to suppose that you spoke the truth, then? Kindly explain yourself.
Kuzovkin. I can say nothing. Think what you like of me — but I won’t take anything.
Yeletsky. This is beyond everything! You mean to remain here, perhaps?
Kuzovkin. I am going to - day.
Yeletsky. Oh, you are! But what a position you leave Olga Petrovna in! You might consider that if you’ve a trace of feeling in you.
Kuzovkin. Let me go, Pavel Nikolaitch. My head is in a whirl, indeed. What do you want of me?
Yeletsky. I want to know, will you take this money? Perhaps you think it’s not enough? We are giving you ten thousand roubles.
Kuzovkin. I cannot take anything.
Yeletsky. You cannot? Then my wife is your . . . I cannot bring myself to utter the word!
Kuzovkin. I know nothing. . . . Let me go. Is about to go out.]
A Sportsman's Sketches: Works of Ivan Turgenev 1 Page 347